


Off Script

by caesiumlight



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesiumlight/pseuds/caesiumlight
Summary: Taeyong works on being the leader, and in the process, gets to know Mark a little more.





	Off Script

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.

They’re not close, not in the ways that matter, at least. Taeyong understands. In a group, there’re bound to be people who might not get along as well. They’re cordial, but Taeyong can count on one hand the number of times they’ve had a proper conversation. Mark just seems a lot happier finding Haechan to huddle together, play pranks, and mother Chen Le and Jisung. 

Except Jaehyun finds him one day and offhandedly comments, “Mark seems a little down these days.”

Taeyong blinks, unsure of what to do with the information. “Okay?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “Go talk to him, leader.”

“Fine,” he scowls. Jaehyun enjoys pulling the leader card on him every now and then, especially because he knows Taeyong is exceedingly helpless to it. Junmyeon hyung had pulled him aside once, told him kindly, it’ll take a while. Getting used to being responsible for others takes a while. Taeyong’s been trying so hard to live up to expectations; the company’s, the fans’, the members’—especially the members’, that it stings when he misses something as glaring as, _Mark seems a little down_. 

Taeyong corners Mark after dance practice, when it’s just the two of them. Yuta was favouring his right leg when he tried but failed to hide the limp he left the studio with, and Taeyong reminds himself to ask him about it later, but for now, he focusses on Mark. There’re bags under his eyes, which while isn’t uncommon for any of them, look particularly heavy on Mark. 

“Hey,” he begins, trying a smile.

“Uh,” Mark says, and then he coughs, a little awkwardly. “If you’re wondering who borrowed your console, it was Haechan, I swear—”

“You okay?” Taeyong interrupts. 

Mark stares at him dumbly. “What?”

And again, that stings. Taeyong tries to hide his grimace. “Can’t I be worried for you?”

“Oh,” Mark says. “Oh. That’s—oh. Thanks, hyung.” He offers Taeyong a small smile, and the weird tension in the room dissipates a little. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“It’s my job to worry,” Taeyong presses, because Mark’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking as if he wants to say something, but holding himself back. “You can tell me, honestly. What’s wrong?” 

Mark exhales, and it’s as if the strings holding him up have been cut. The line of his shoulders slumps, and he looks small and helpless, like a grounded bird. “Tired,” he admits. “So many things, hyung. I feel like I’m stretched too thin.”

Taeyong nods. That, he understands. There isn’t anything he can do about Mark’s schedule, as infuriating as that is, but there’re other ways he can help. He reaches forward, a little hesitantly, and ruffles Mark’s hair. Mark allows his head to dip with the weight. “So first things first, you get sole rights to my console,” Taeyong decides, which startles a laugh out of Mark. “And second, I’m here, yeah? If you need anything, practice, go over lines, whatever, just let me know.”

Mark smiles up at him, a little bashfully. “You take good care of us.”

Taeyong shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. This is why Jaehyun calls him emotionally-constipated. “It’s what I do.”

 

\--

 

Despite his offer, Mark doesn’t actually come to him after. Taeyong’s not surprised, they haven’t yet crossed the threshold from friends to _friends_ , so he doesn’t blame Mark for any wariness on his part. But the worry that lingers when Mark stumbles out of bed looking as if hadn’t slept settles heavily, lodges itself deep into his chest.

He loiters in the studio when the rest have gone, counting heads as they pass him by the entrance door. Seven. That leaves— 

Taeyong motions to the others to go on ahead, and then he turns on his heel and walks back to the recording room they were in. 

“Mark,” he calls, peering in. Empty. He wanders down the corridor. “Mark,” he tries again, and there’s a sound like a door slamming. Taeyong hurries toward the bathroom, and is greeted by Mark running out to meet him. 

“I’m fine, hyung,” he says, even though he looks like anything but. His eyes are red and puffy. He looks wrung out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, I just need—need a minute.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says, voice pitched low. He encircles two fingers around Mark’s wrist, trying to ground him. Mark’s shoulders dip a fraction. “Do you need it alone?”

Mark looks undecided for a second, before he whispers, “No.”

 _Good_ , Taeyong thinks, drenched in relief. _Good_ , because the lost look on Mark face sets off a fierce protectiveness that surprises him. “Come on. Let’s go to the roof.”

The night air is cool against Taeyong’s heated skin, and he sheds his hoodie, passing it to Mark who pulls it on unthinkingly. He looks small in it. They settle next to each other, staring out at the skyline. The lights from the buildings are muted by the fog lingering in the air, and the city looks softer, less intimidating, maybe even pretty. 

“Breathe,” Taeyong tells Mark periodically, as he tilts his face toward the sky. “Breathe.”

 

\--

 

Mark gravitates more toward him after that. He comes to him late one night after practice to go for a convenience store run, and Taeyong can’t tamper down the satisfaction that bubbles up at his request. 

On the other hand, Mark seems surprised that Taeyong agrees so readily. Taeyong winces a little; baby steps, he reminds himself, and offers to pay, like a good hyung would. This leads to an eavesdropping Jaehyun insisting on joining in, and by the time they get to the door, Doyoung’s waiting for them with his shoes on. 

“Woah,” Taeyong says, bewildered. “How did you—”

“Can you guys be any slower,” Doyoung complains. “I want chips, hyung.”

“Uh huh,” Taeyong says in a way that perfectly conveys he isn’t going to get any. 

The nearest store’s only two blocks away, but they keep their heads down and beanies up. Mark glances off to his side a couple of times, shifty. Taeyong steps in to his right, a flimsy shield between Mark and the lone cars speeding down the street at this time in the night. The look of gratefulness he’s shown makes him stick closer. 

The elderly woman behind the counter tuts and admonishes them for being out so late at night, but it’s clear as day that she has no idea who they are. With a cloak of anonymity suddenly draped over them, here in the protective glass casings of the deserted store, Doyoung adopts a bounce in his step as he drags Jaehyun over to the nearest shelf. 

Mark wanders over to the ice-cream cooler, and considers his options with a furrow in his brow. “Cookies and cream or double chocolate,” Taeyong hears him muttering. “Cookies and cream or double chocolate.”

Watch your weight, they’re told, watch what you eat. Taeyong’s pretty sure ice-cream isn’t part of their nutrition plans. Suck it, Taeyong thinks viciously, and leans over to say, “Cookies and cream _and_ double chocolate.”

Mark blinks at him. “What?”

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “Well, unless you think you can’t finish—”

Decision made, Mark grabs two packets out of the box. “Watch me, hyung,” he grins, and something in Taeyong’s chest eases.

They wait ten more minutes for a dithering Jaehyun to pick out his pocky flavour of the day, and Taeyong gathers their spoils and presents them to the cashier. 

“Ballin’,” Jaehyun drawls as Taeyong reaches for his wallet, laughing when Taeyong tosses a disposable straw at his face. 

They quieten the moment they step out the door, into the open again, but Mark sidles up to him. “You didn’t get yourself anything, hyung.”

“Oh,” Taeyong hums, “I wasn’t hungry.” In truth, he didn’t bring enough cash, and he’d been hoping he was discreet enough to put those gummy bears back without anybody noticing.

“Same here, actually.” Mark rips open an ice-cream packet. “Think you can help me with this?”

Mark lifts the offered cone up. He waits for Taeyong, unmoving. Jaehyun and Doyoung are already half a block down. Taeyong stares, wondering at the return of the odd sensation in his chest, before he leans down slowly and takes a bite. 

 

\--

 

They don’t have much free time after, because Limitless is possibly the most difficult stage they’ve tackled so far. Closer to comeback, the nightly practice sessions start to stretch longer and longer, and exhaustion wears heavily on all of them. Taeyong ignores his body’s protests and forfeits rest to go through steps with some of the others, patient even through the strain. He sleeps like a log for the couple of hours they get, and then it’s back to the grind. 

But now, Taeyong can watch with satisfaction and no small amount of pride as they pull off performance after performance in front of a screaming crowd. He can feel it in the frenzied response, in the way the members’ themselves leave the floor exuberant. He’s sweating his eyeliner off, his chest is heaving, he’s dizzy with adrenaline, but times like these he stops to take a breath and think: it’s worth it. It’s all worth it. 

Still trapped in a post-stage haze, he doesn’t notice Mark until he’s two feet away from him. Mark’s forehead has a soft sheen to it, and while he looks physically tired from the performance, there’s a sharpness to his gaze that catches Taeyong off-guard. 

“Hyung,” is all he says.

Taeyong nods, curious, waiting. 

“Hyung,” Mark says again, more urgently this time. 

Taeyong blinks, unsure. Mark looks nervous. Taeyong reaches out a hand, gently rests it on his elbow in an attempt to soothe. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just—you looked good on stage,” Mark says softly. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor. “You look good, doing what you’re good at.”

It’s something Taeyong’s heard before. It comes easy for him, the moves, the lines, what expressions he has to make. He doesn’t have to think, just glides across the stage, forceful and free. They’ve said the air around him turns electric when he dances, that he has a way magnetizing your attention. But it’s strange, hearing it from Mark. He didn’t realize he’d been watching. 

“Thank you,” Taeyong says, uncomprehending. This feels different to the compliments he receives on a regular basis. And then, because he can’t think of anything else, “You looked good, as well.”

Mark snaps his gaze up, assessing. And then he pulls back and flees the room, leaving Taeyong to stare dumbly after him.

 

\--

 

Taeyong will never like interviews. Maybe one day he’ll ease further into his skin in front of a close-up camera, but now, there’re always too many things to remember: what he should say, what he under no circumstances should ever say, how to relay answers to make them sound natural instead of carefully rehearsed. Towards the end, it becomes a just-smile-and-nod thing, because he’s lost the ability to process further questions. But it’s worse for some of the others; Winwin, for example, having to maintain a bright smile when he doesn’t understand most of what the emcees are asking of him. Taeyong makes a point to keep an eye out for him, ready with a discreet hand on his back when Winwin’s smile starts to falter. 

It seems as if the hosts are talking particularly fast today, and Taeyong’s so intent on watching Winwin that he doesn’t notice the question directed at him. 

“Taeyong-ssi?” the interviewer asks, and Taeyong startles, mentally berating himself for spacing out on national television. Jaehyun skillfully manoeuvers him out of the slip-up, describing Taeyong as thoughtful, and one who considers his words sensibly before speaking. 

“He takes a while, sometimes,” and the members dutifully murmur their assent. 

The interviewer chuckles, and repeats her question. “So, who would you like to grow closer to, Taeyong-ssi?”

Taeyong’s mind is on auto-pilot. “Winwin,” he blurts out. It’s one of his prepared answers. “He’s kind and playful. I like practicing my dance with him. I think we’ll be really good friends.”

“You’re already really good friends,” Johnny comments.

“Even better friends, then,” Taeyong supplies, and the interviewer laughs, charmed. She moves onto the next person, and Taeyong fights to hide his sigh of relief. He glances over to the other members. They’re all focussed on Jaehyun, giggling while he pokes Yuta in the ribs and declares that they should be best friends. All except Mark, who’s considering him solemnly with an intent he can’t quite decipher.

He looks—good. Better now, than before. He’s eased into the swing of promotions with surprising confidence. With his hair pushed up in a bandana, the slim line of his neck is accentuated. Taeyong finds himself staring at the arch of his cheek. They haven’t had time together after the recent Limitless performance, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about the conversation that transpired. It’s true, what he said to Mark. He looks good.

“And you, Mark-ssi? Who would you like to grow closer to?”

Taeyong shifts in his seat. He’s very much awake now. 

“Taeyong hyung,” Mark says, still looking at him. Taeyong blinks. In their run through, Mark was supposed to go with Haechan or Taeil. “I think hyung has a lot of things he keeps to himself because he’s the leader. I want him to open up to me, even if I’m a dongsaeng.”

Definitely off script. 

The interviewer makes a delighted sound, but Taeyong doesn’t catch what she’s saying. Mark breaks his gaze as he goes into more detail on their relationship, _he’s kind to me, so I want to be there for him_ , and _I admire and respect him a lot. He’s a good leader_. Taeyong watches the way he covers his face with his hands, as if shy, and the way he avoids Taeyong’s eyes after, and thinks, _uh-oh_. 

 

\--

 

“Tell me I’m reading too much into this.”

Jaehyun looks far too amused for his liking. “Don’t see what’s the problem, everyone’s probably had a crush on you at some point.”

Taeyong sits up, interested despite himself. “Even you?”

“How oblivious can you get? Especially me.” Jaehyun winks and makes kissy faces, prompting Taeyong to launch a pillow at his face. 

“Dude, I’m serious. What if—”

“What if Mark has a crush on you?” Jaehyun interrupts, tone suddenly sharper. “So what?”

“So,” Taeyong starts, then stops. He enjoys Mark’s company. Their quiet conversations, his quick humour, his kind bearing. He pauses to consider why this has him feeling so off-kilter. “I’m the leader, right? I should be keeping this professional.”

Jaehyun stares at him, assessing. Living together, training together, crying together, and you inevitably run the risk of your friends knowing you better than you know yourself sometimes. Jaehyun sees right through his flimsy excuse. “That’s not it.”

“No,” Taeyong sighs. “It’s not.” The reason— 

An image of Mark with his eyes rimmed red, breathing deep against the backdrop of a smoky sky, flashes stark in his mind. 

“He came to me at a low point. If this is—I mean, I don’t know what this is, but.” Taeyong exhales, frustrated. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Then don’t,” Jaehyun says, gentler now. “Be kind.”

 

\--

 

They’re changing up the choreography for Limitless, and the practice room is full of people tripping over themselves, confused. As the second hour wears on, Taeyong feels the collective frustration in the room grow. He bites down on his annoyance however, because they’re all trying, they are. But he frowns when he notices Mark staring at him through the mirror. It’s distracting. It’s the last thing he needs right now. 

“Let’s take a break,” Doyoung suggests, glancing at Taeyong for approval. Taeyong nods, and somebody lets out an audible sigh. Johnny groans as he stretches. “Gatorade, anybody?”

The rest file out of excitedly, but Taeyong lingers, glaring at himself through the mirror. His body aches. He should be getting this down, easy. He should be helping the others, like the leader he should be. But he’s still messing up the choreography. 

“Hyung.” It’s Mark. “Are you alright?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Mark shifts timidly, cowed by Taeyong’s curtness. But he finds it in himself to ask, “Are you sure?”

There’s nothing but sincere concern in Mark’s question, and later, Taeyong will think back to this moment again and again and regret, but fatigue has made him _stupid_. “I can’t concentrate,” he snaps. “And this,” he gestures vaguely in between them, “isn’t helping.”

Mark flinches. “This?”

“Yeah, this. It’s gotta stop.”

Mark stares at him, expression an amalgam of hurt and confusion. Taeyong’s reminded of an incident years ago; as a kid, the feeling he got after picking a butterfly’s wings. After being unnecessarily cruel. _Shit_ , he thinks, and opens his mouth to apologize, to say something, anything— 

But Mark takes a shaky step back, chokes out, “Okay.” Before he can react, the members return, Yuta flips the music back on, they move back to their positions, and the end of the night finds Taeyong standing by himself in the studio, wondering how in hell he’s ever going to undo the damage he’s done. 

 

\--

 

It would’ve been awkward if their schedules had let them be. But Mark and Haechan get pulled away for an NCT Dream stage, and a week goes by with Taeyong seeing neither hide nor hair of him. Which just leaves him plenty of time to stew in his own juices, and plenty of occasions for Jaehyun to throw him dirty looks. 

Jaehyun had stormed into his room that night, unrelenting in his anger. “What did you say to him,” he demanded, because it was clear to anyone looking that Mark was _miserable_ when he left the practice room. 

“That’s none of your business,” Taeyong protested weakly, but unfortunately, that had told Jaehyun all he needed to know. Be gentle, Jaekhyun had reminded, and he had been anything but. 

They have some downtime for another week or so, and Taeyong wakes up one morning with literally nothing to do. It’s rare, and he should be thankful for the break, but all he can think of is how Mark isn’t here to enjoy it, how Mark had admitted to him, _tired_ , how he’s out there working his back off and feeling like crap at the same time because of him, and the full weight of his careless words makes it difficult to breathe.

He’s restless. If Mark were here, he’d probably convince Taeyong to go for bubble tea, or to spend all his spare change on gummy bears. Or they’d visit the studio roof again, sit there and gaze at the hazy skyline, realign their world one breath at a time. 

Taeyong stays cooped up in his room until dinner. Winwin finds him watching NCT Dream performances with his head half buried in his arms on the desk. He sits gingerly next to Taeyong.

“He got so good at dancing,” Taeyong mumbles. On the screen, Mark glides across the floor in _My First and Last_ effortlessly, his moves fluid and clean. “How did I not notice?”

Winwin points to the screen. “Mark? Yes. Good. He practiced hard.”

Hard is an understatement. Mark has been carrying twice his weight, and pushing through it with a single-minded doggedness that makes him feel lazy in comparison. “Yeah.”

Sensing his distress, Winwin pats him carefully on the shoulder. “You miss Mark?”

Taeyong tilts his head up. “What?”

“Happier with him.” Winwin smiles. “You are happier with him.”

“Yeah,” he admits gloomily, because if this week has taught him anything, it’s just that. He is happier with Mark around. He doesn’t understand why that had bothered him. 

“You talk to him?” Winwin prods. 

“No,” Taeyong says hurriedly. That’s not a conversation he looks forward to having.

Winwin frowns. “You talk to him,” and this time, it isn’t a question. 

 

\--

 

Mark and Haechan return, and Mark finds every excuse to linger no more than two seconds in the same room as Taeyong. He hates that it’s as if they’re back to square one, having undone any progress in their relationship, and now they’re completely uncomfortable with each other.

“Help me,” he implores. “I can’t get him alone. Haechan’s sticking to him like a very stubborn burr.” 

Jaehyun shrugs, unsympathetic. “With good reason.”

Taeyong exhales, chastised. “I get that. I get that I made a mistake. I don’t deny it. But I’m trying to make things right.”

Jaehyun considers him heavily, but Taeyong holds his gaze, sincere. And finally, his friend cracks a smile, familiar and reassuring. “Try tomorrow.”

So halfway through practice the next day, when Mark leaves for the bathroom, Jaehyun claps his hands together in an awful imitation of him and announces, “Leader thinks we need to be more hydrated! It’ll keep our energy up.”

Taeyong squints at him. “What?” 

Johnny picks up his cue. “Well, if Leader says so. Gatorade run!” 

Haechan looks confused. “But we just—”

“Gatorade!” Winwin chimes, grabbing Haechan and ushering him out. 

The rest dutifully file out, looking far too knowing for Taeyong’s liking. Jaehyun gives him a smug look at the door. “So this is what power feels like,” he muses, and Taeyong resists the urge to throw a shoe at him. 

Mark comes back to a completely empty room, with the exception of Taeyong. It’s obvious how he tenses up immediately, how his entire body language looks to be on the defensive. It stings, but Taeyong’s aware he deserves it. 

“Hey,” he begins, cautiously. 

Mark’s looking at the floor, at the mirror, at the wall, anywhere but at him. “Hey.”

Taeyong gets up, slowly closes the distance between them. “Listen, I—” He stops short when he sees the bags around Mark’s eyes, reminiscent of a couple of weeks ago. “Are you alright?” he asks instead. 

Mark jerks his gaze to him. He looks angry. “If you’re worried I’m gonna fall behind, don’t. I won’t let this affect something as important as the band.”

Taeyong almost flinches. Mark sounds harsher than he’s ever heard him before. “I’m not asking as your leader,” he says quietly. 

“Why do you care?” And this time Mark just sounds tired.

“I do,” Taeyong says, desperate for Mark to believe him. “I do.”

“You can’t—be like this, hyung. You can’t be so nice, and then push me away, and then be nice to me again. I can’t take it, alright? Don’t do that to me.”

“I won’t,” Taeyong promises, because the hurt and drawn look on Mark’s face is something Taeyong doesn’t ever want to see there again. He takes a breath, tries to be brave. “You remember what you said on that interview? That you wanted me to open up to you?”

Mark tilts his head in question. “Yeah?”

“Will you hear me out?”

“Oh,” Mark says slowly. “Okay?”

“I don’t think I’m a very good leader,” he admits. 

Mark frowns, stepping up to defend him without a second thought. “You are,” he insists, almost forcefully. 

Taeyong doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve such loyalty. But he will work to be deserving. “I think I can be better,” he amends. “I try to help when I can, I try to look out for you guys. I wanted to do that for you, when you looked so tired before.”

Mark nods. “I know.”

“But,” Taeyong lets out a breath, grasps for words to help Mark understand. It falls out in bits and pieces. “We got close, and I was happy, but I got distracted, and I thought. I thought this was interfering with my ability to be a good leader. So I, you know.” 

Mark nods again, with a pinch in between his eyes, so Taeyong pushes forth. “I was wrong. It got worse when you weren’t around. I couldn’t think.” 

"What are you saying?" Mark asks, a note of pleading in his voice. 

Taeyong pauses. Thinks back to the grounding effect Mark had on him when they stared down the heavy lights of the Seoul skyline together. “I'm saying, I would rather go back to being distracted, than us not speaking.”

Mark chews his lip. “Why were you distracted?”

“Uh,” Taeyong mumbles, says the first thing that comes to mind. “You looked good?”

“Oh,” Mark says stunned. And then he flushes. “You meant that?”

“What?” Taeyong says, and then he remembers. He had said it to Mark after the performance. “Of course I meant it.”

“Oh,” Mark says again. And then he gives Taeyong a small smile that makes his pulse jump. “Jaehyun hyung was right. You really are emotionally constipated.”

“Hey!”

Mark shrugs, laughing now. “He warned me.” He steps a little closer to Taeyong. “So you’re saying, this is okay?”

Taeyong nods. “Yeah.” 

He lets Mark takes the lead, leaning up toward him, and Taeyong meets him halfway. It’s just a soft press of their lips, but Taeyong feels like his chest is straining to keep his heart in check. Mark pulls back with a bright smile, cheeks a pretty pink; Taeyong wants to pull him close again, but the members choose that moment to spill back in. 

He ignores Johnny’s and Jaehyun’s waggling eyebrows, but lets Winwin pat him proudly on the head. Doyoung, Taeil, and Haechan are off to the side interrogating Mark. Yuta goes to restart the music again. “Okay?” he asks, grinning.

Taeyong glances around at all of them, at Mark, who’s looking at him, glowing with affection. “Okay,” he says, happy, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go, guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, do let me know what you think! And come join me in this black hole hurhur. ♥


End file.
